Monthly Archives: September 2017

Just past Lake Isabelle, I catch my first glance. It’s long and white, and from this distance, it could be just a large patch of snow hanging from the top of the mountain. I keep up my pace, and encounter the season’s first new snow — first just a couple of inches, but as I ascend each switchback, there is a bit more soft slush to make my way through.

As I grow closer, I see ski tracks. Yes, three small dots are ascending the the oblong expanse of snow and ice, skis on their backs, in search of the perfect run. Finally, after picking my way through a series of boulders, I descend down to the massive expanse of white. I am standing on top of Isabelle Glacier.

Glaciers. Quick — which country, which state comes to mind? For me, during a recent trip to Iceland, I expected to see glaciers, lots and lots of large expanses of ice grinding their way from the mountains to the sea. After all, the name of the country is about ice, what else would you expect?

Or perhaps Glacier National Park, another destination rife with expectation just from its name. Or even Alaska with its northerly climate, long cold dark winters, and big mountains.

But Colorado? Upon posting recent photos of my hike at Brainard Lake Recreation Area, several friends posted incredulous comments that I had hiked to a glacier. All fourteen of Colorado’s named glaciers are located along the Front Range mountains, eight in Rocky Mountain National Park and six in the Indian Peaks Wilderness Area.

A glacier is a perennial mass of ice that is large enough and heavy enough to flow, like a very thick fluid. Glaciers form wherever more snow accumulates than is lost each year. As new snow accumulates, it buries and compresses the old snow. Under the weight of the overlying snow, the old snow is transformed from a fluffy mass of ice crystals into dense, hard ice.

Colorado’s glaciers are formed more as a function topography and weather patterns, than latitude and longitude. In fact, the Rocky Mountains themselves are a function of glacial sculpting during the last ice age. It’s what gives them their jagged, rugged appearance, as glaciers slowly ground down the rock faces into cirques, spires, and peaks.

The high altitudes of the Rockies at 13,000 feet and more lend itself to large amounts of snow falling just over the crest, depositing snow that turns to ice on the east and north facing bowls. Snowier than normal winters help the glaciers grow, and conversely they shrink during drier winters. While the glaciers of Glacier National Park are fast disappearing, Colorado’s glaciers are holding steady. Because of how our glaciers are formed, they are less vulnerable to climate change than those to the north.

And many of them are accessible to hikers without any special mountaineering skills. St. Mary’s glacier, Andrews Glacier, Arapaho Glacier and Isabelle Glacier all are within reach during a day’s hike.

Isabelle Glacier is one of those, and makes an exceptionally beautiful hike during the summer and fall hiking season. The hike is around nine miles round trip from the Long Lake Trailhead with about 1800 feet of total elevation gain. But the reward is well worth it. Standing on top of the glacier, I surveyed the scenery. Bordered by Navajo Glacier on one side and Shoshone Peak up above, its vistas are breathtaking. My recent hike showed wisps of up slope clouds hanging above the peaks dusted with snow as the blue sky peaked out between them.

If you’re wanting to get up close and personal with a slab of snow and ice, consider heading out to the mountains along Colorado’s front range. Many of the glaciers make for a memorable day hike and a chance to experience something few people can.

First things first. Feeling groggy, I stumble downstairs and get the coffee going. Then, to the next task, and Simon and Shawnee peer up at me, tails wagging. Hooking on their leashes, I opened the door to take them out. Brrrr!!

The first thing that greets me is the smell of wood smoke, something that seemed a distant memory from last May. But the temperature told me that it was time to crank up the wood stove again as it appeared most of my neighbors had.

A far cry from two days earlier when I walked around the neighborhood donning shorts and a T-shirt. A cold front had moved in, bringing rain and some really brisk temperatures. Summer was long gone, and not only had fall arrived, but the air of winter is upon us.

The temperatures over the last three days have struggled to make it out of the 30s, and not only did I have to pull out my jacket, but also my winter hat and gloves just to take the dogs for a short walk around the block.

I could only imagine what the mountains looked like, as they were obscured by fog. But given the cold temperatures at our house, I am sure the high peaks are coated with snow. This was later confirmed by photos taken by my friend, Sam, of a hike in Rocky Mountain National Park, with 2-3 inches of snow covering the trail and trees.

There’s something magical about this time of year, when the color change hasn’t finished, but we get a glimpse of winter. The backdrop along the Peak to Peak highway of the golds and oranges popping out along the road, but with snow capped peaks towering above is the quintessential autumn scene for the Rocky Mountains of Colorado.

And though for some, this early taste of winter is not welcome, for me, it feels good to be out in the brisk weather. The cold temperatures invigorate my spirit as I walk briskly down the dirt road, and apparently I’m not alone as Simon, all 15 years young, gallops ahead, seemingly gaining a second wind from the drop in temperatures.

As I fire up the wood stove, our log home feels cozy and inviting. I look forward to making a steaming bowl of soup and making a cup of tea, as I sit next to the fire reading.

I’ve never been a very good mountain biker. Walking on a trail in Breckenridge this past week, I watched a very confident woman cruise down a steep single track hill with ease. That’s the thing about sports like mountain biking and downhill skiing. To be really, really good, you have to perform with complete confidence and no fear.

For me, I’m able to do that for the most part while skiing, but not mountain biking. I remember downhill skiing in the Sierra twenty-five years ago back when no one wore helmets, and we all thought we were invincible. I skied with a bunch of guys who knew no limits, and I came along for the ride. They skied Mach 7 with complete abandon. At one point, someone said, “you know if I fell right now, there’s a good possibility I’d break my neck.” But you can’t be thinking like that, because being cautious or timid insures you will not be a great skier. It insures you will be defensive and timid, and most of all it insures you probably will fall.

I came to mountain biking later in life than skiing. Unfortunately, I bike timid, afraid that I’ll crash. And it works against me becoming a better biker. While biking up in Whistler, British Columbia, we rode trails with lots of trestles — narrow trestles, banked trestles, and roller coaster type trestles. To ride the trestles successfully, you have to come in with lots of speed and confidence. But my fears got the best of me and I ended up walking my bike a lot.

Living in the mountains is a lot like skiing and mountain biking. It’s a life built on resilience and knowing you can take whatever life throws your way. You can’t let your fears get the best of you. If you spend the whole summer worried a wildfire will break out, you’ll miss out on so many amazing sunsets, sunrises, vistas and rainbows.

A friend of mine says she could never live here, because she’d worry about the lack of medical services nearby. I recently suffered from a toothache this week. “What if that happened while you’re on a backpack trip?” she plaintively said to me. And what if it did? I guess I’d double-time it off the trail, all the while taking large quantities of Advil.

I’ve joked to Bryon that if we ever had a heart attack while climbing a Fourteener, that would pretty much be the end, because no one’s coming with the AED up the trail. But what a terrible reason not to get out and see the amazing vistas we saw last week trekking up Mt. Yale.

I once read a book of affirmations that said to live life with “confident expectation.” When I go for a long hike on my own, I like to think that’s what i’m doing — confidently and quietly expecting to have a great day, to enjoy moments of wonder and awe that surround me in this amazing state.

Go forward into the great outdoors with courage, seize the day and leave fear far, far behind.

Arriving at zero dark hundred, we pull into the barren parking lot, our headlights illuminating the one other car already there. That in itself is an atypical start to a summit hike up one of Colorado’s 54 14,000-foot peaks. But it is a Tuesday in September, and it did rain most of the day yesterday.

As we pull on our jackets, and don our headlamps, hundreds of stars sparkle over our heads. Orion’s belt appears, signalling the start of winter. We strap on our packs and head up the trail.

Though I’ve hiked up this trail just a couple of months ago on our way to Hartenstein Lake, it feels totally different. In the dark, it’s hard to get my bearings of the where the trail is and where it twists and turn. I stare at the ground, being mindful to not trip over a rock.

Before we know it, we come to a stream with the crude log bridges. Four logs of varying width are laid side by side, providing a rudimentary bridge across the creek. The logs are still wet from yesterday’s rain storm, making them slippery as we edge onto them. I make like a duck, turning my feet outward to gain a more stable stance, jabbing my trekking poles into the water for balance.

Coming upon the junction, my headlamp illuminates the wooden sign “Mt Yale” with an arrow to the right. Onward we go, passing through groves of silent Aspen, as the first rays of light begin to seep through the woods.

And then the switchbacks begin. Most trails are built with switchbacks to make the grade less steep. But these switchbacks incorporate lots of climbing in between each one, until we have finally broken out above the trees.

The winds pick up and though I am sweating from all this climbing, I feel chilled. We don our Nanopuff jackets, and I even put on my winter hat and gloves. It’s around 7 a.m. by now, and the temperatures are probably in the 30s.

We continue our ascent towards granite peaks to our north and east. It’s wide open now, and my thoughts are interrupted only by the sounds of the scurrying pikas — meep! meep!

Trying to spot the trail, Bryon gestures to our right. Yep, it’s heading up what looks like a very steep pitch to a saddle. Mt. Yale is off to the saddle’s right. We gauge that we are going to climb about 900 feet over the next half-mile to reach the saddle.

This final climb up yet more switchbacks are the worst yet. We are now above 13,000 feet and I am feeling the altitude. Yet, I feel it’s important to keep moving, so I adopt the heel-to-toe slow plod, trying only to focus on making it to the next switchback. The description in our Fourteeners.com app calls this the final grind, an apt use of words. Why is it they always make the steepest part of the trail at the end?

My heart is pounding as I tap my poles and silently shuffle along. Finally, the saddle appears, and having summoned all my energy reserves to keep moving, I stop to catch my breath and survey the scene.

We have 300 feet to go, and a scramble through the boulders to attain the summit. Our task is made a bit more daunting by the fact the rocks have an icy glaze to them, courtesy of the moisture from yesterday freezing overnight. I decide to go with four points of contact, abandoning the poles, opting to crawl more like a cat, using hands and feet. Finally, after taking a haphazard route following various cairns, there is no more climbing left to do.

The vistas are breathtaking. Our app says you can see 30 Fourteeners, and I believe it — as wave after wave of massive peaks encircle us. It feels like we are on top of the world as we survey the beauty of the Colorado Rocky Mountains.

“Where are you from?” I queried the older couple who just walked into the museum.

“Well, we’re from Texas but we’re staying in Boulder, Colorado for three weeks.”

“Are you visiting friends or family?”

“No, we’re house-sitting some people’s house through Housecares.com.”

Huh? With Colorado being a very desirable vacation destination, and lodging at a premium, more and more tourists are turning to “alternative” forms of lodging. As written in a prior blog post, in mountain towns throughout Colorado VRBO and Airbnb rentals are on the uptick. But then again, so are other venues.

When friends have come to visit us in our log home, many mention what a desirable vacation home our house would be. As one friend said gleefully, “You literally live on a mountain top!” Well, not quite a mountain top, but we do live on a ridge and have a lovely view of the mountains. Couple that with the rustic, cozy feel of exposed logs, a nice guest room and a large wraparound deck, and I can see why people would think of this as the perfect alpine getaway.

Housecares.com matches tourists who are looking for nice vacation lodging on the cheap with home owners looking for free pet care. The couple I spoke with got a lovely home and even the use of a Lexus for three weeks for the sum total of taking care of a Labrador retriever. They’d never met the woman before and just provided a couple of references along with their application.

As a pet owner, I know pet care doesn’t come cheap. We pay our dog sitter $30 per day per dog. A week’s vacation cost us over $400 in pet fees. Cat care isn’t much better. This past winter, we paid a woman in our neighborhood $20 per visit to check in our senior cat who was ill. You can start to understand the appeal of someone living at your house, taking care of Fido and Kitty, and you’re not paying a thing.

Then there’s the house swap. On homeexchange.com, you find someone who’s interested in your location, and you literally agree to take vacations during the same week with each of you staying at the other’s residence. If you live in a desirable location like an island in Hawaii or in our case the Rocky Mountains of Colorado, this can work quite well. And the cost of lodging in a highly sought after tourist mecca? Zip.

But still, there’s something about these arrangements that makes me uneasy. How well do I really know my dog? He seems great around the family and neighbors, but what if something sets him off and he bites the touristas? Or in our case, what happens if a wildfire breaks out? We have a set evacuation plan down of what to take and where to go to get out within 5-10 minutes. But how will Bill and Barbara from Iowa handle that kind of situation? In the moment of high drama, would they manage to drag Fluffy out of the car and pack our fire boxes?

Also, sure you check references, but how much do I trust someone I don’t even know with MY STUFF? It’s one thing to give your neighbor the key, the same neighbor that you will see day in and day out upon returning from my trip. But it’s another to give some faceless couple access to all that’s near and dear to me.

So what do you think? Is free lodging on your vacation worth opening the door to your home to complete strangers? Is saving hundreds of dollars on pet-sitting fees worth it?

Hiking up the endless switchbacks, we have now left the trees behind. Mountains come into view — vast soaring peaks of 14,000 feet and more of granite. The terrain is covered in boulders with an occasion scant piece of grass or wildflower in it last stages of bloom before the first hard freeze kills it. The farther we head up towards our destination, Mt. Yale, the fewer forms of life there seem to be. After all, what could possibly survive up in this harsh environment? I can only imagine how incredibly cold, windy and snowy this place will be comeDecember.

Then a blur of something furry catches my eye. It zips by so quickly I can hardly see what it is. Is it a mouse? It can’t be a marmot, because they are usually chubby and slow. But whatever this thing is, it is on the move.

There it goes again. For a split second I catch a better look, small, compact body, gray fur and small ears set close to its head. Meep! Meep! I hear it calling out as it scurries in and out of the rocks. I catch another glance — it looks like it’s carrying something. In fact, it’s got a bundle of greens hanging from its mouth. Running underneath the boulder, it pops back out. The greens are gone and it is zipping over the tops of boulders once again.

The pika is that rarest of animal that can actually survive in the alpine environment. During our recent summit hike up Mt. Yale, pikas abounded. In fact, they were pretty much the only living thing I remember seeing above 13,000 feet other than the few other hikers we encountered.

The pikas are busy. The old saying is “busy as a beaver”, but I don’t think any living thing could be more in a constant state of motion than the pika right now. They are battling the deadline of winter weather coming. At 13,000 feet, it won’t be long until the snow starts flying (maybe within the next two weeks). And once the snow starts piling up, “haying” season will be over.

Pikas are part of a group of wildlife that “tolerates” their environment during winter. They don’t go to sleep, they don’t migrate down to the plains, they stay put in one of the harshest, inhospitable places where few things can stay alive — the alpine tundra. And they do it, by spending a few short months, gathering every green plant they can find and taking it back to their den to build up their food cache. Because that food cache is how they will eat and survive during the long winter ahead.

Their window to “hay” is short. Up on the tundra, the growing season only lasts a few weeks, really late June to early September. Then the temperatures start to drop sub-freezing, and the jig is up. Pikas are so industrious that they can cache up to a bushel of plants in preparation for the winter. For such a small animal, I find that amazing!

As the world around us warms up, the pika’s habitat is threatened. With winters getting warmer, trees are creeping higher and higher up the sloeps, making the tundra habitat smaller. The pika can only live on the tundra. As a rodent, it makes for desirable prey for foxes and coyotes, and if the woods encroach, so will the other critters that will eat the pika. If you can’t get behind changing behavior for climate change for yourself, do it for the pika. How can you possibly resist this fuzzy little creature?

So as I try to put in my last hikes in during these past few weeks, I listen for the tell-tale call. Meep! Meep! I know the pikas are hard at work and won’t rest until they’ve gathered every last plant they can.

Well, it’s started. The pops of yellow and splotches of orange made me marvel and feel the exhilaration over the fall colors. It may seem early, but in fact, at elevations of 9000 feet and above, it’s starting to get good. If you are savvy about it, you can actually catch the colors starting now and by finding the right scenic byways, you can enjoy them for the next four weeks.

So what’s the best places to go to enjoy the fall colors in the Rocky Mountains?

I’d like to first give a shout out to the western slope. So many of us focus on place near the Front Range, but one of the most beautiful Aspen drives I’ve ever driven runs from the tiny town of Hotchkiss, south of Grand Junction, to Curecanti National Recreation Area. As the road winds and curves, every hillside is covered with an ever larger grove of Aspens, bursting with color. And because it is so off the beat and path, you won’t have to share it will thousands of other people.

The Grand Mesa hosts Color Sunday on September 24 this year. If you haven’t taken a drive on Highway 65, it is the largest mesa in the United States, and is filled with not only Aspen groves, but mountain lakes. Hit it right, and you will be amazed by the views and the colors.

We made a trip today down to the Collegiates to get one last Fourteener hike and the colors along Guanella Pass are pretty spectacular. This old mining road is another road that is seldomly travelled, other than those going to climb Mt. Bierstadt, but offers views of peaks, Bighorn Sheep, and yes, colorful Aspen trees. If you really want to have a fun-packed fall day, you can pair this drive with a ride on the Georgetown Loop railroad.

Closer to home, I’m always looking in anticipation for the colors to change on the Peak to Peak Highway that runs from Idaho Springs to Estes Park. The mixes of pines and first with so many groups of Aspen always leave me marveling at the beauty. And when the grove north of Nederland peaks, well, it’s like magic.

My last recommendation is down south near Colorado Springs. Pikes Peak is unique in that the road stays open year-round, when just about every other high peak road closes after Labor Day. Many years ago, my father-in-law visited and wanted to go to the Pikes Peak Summit. It was late September, and the colors along the Pikes Peak highway produced many “oohs” and “aahs”. All that beauty will come at a price, $15/person or $50 for the car load.

If you have a federal America the Beautiful Pass or Senior Pass, you can still drive the Mt. Evans Highway up to Summit Lake until Sept. 25. Whenever we have visitors from out of town, this is one of our favorite drives for the views of the high peaks, the colors, and to scare the heck out of them!

Don’t let the next 2-3 weeks go by without getting out for a drive — to me this is one of the prettiest times of year in the Rockies and we are so lucky to have all this splendor to enjoy in our home state.

That pop of yellow among the blue-green pines and firs. Frost on the windshield of the car. The sound of an elk bugling in the distance.

Signs of fall are all around. While some lament the passing of summer, I’m not among them. I’ve never been a fan of hot weather, but it’s the sights and sounds of autumn that excite me. I once told a co-worker that my optimal hiking day is during a crisp fall day in the Rockies. Give me a sunny, but cool day with that nip in that air — a high of around 50 and a low hovering right at the freezing mark. The cool weather invigorates me — I feel like I can hike forever. It feels good to put that extra jacket on, or perhaps even don a knit hat for the first time in months.

But it’s the colors that really get to me during autumn. As someone who lived in New England, I heard over and over again the best fall colors dot the hillsides of Vermont and New Hampshire. And yes, I’ll grant you the maples and oaks do produce a spectacular color display.

But there’s something about the backdrop of deep green pine, fir and spruce with brilliant yellows and oranges mixed in that makes me say, “Wow!” Add in a peak lightly dusted with snow, and to me you have the perfect calendar photo for September. Theses days, I can an eye on the calendar and make a special trip to Estes Park just to take in all that gold, orange and red.

For four summers, I worked seasonally as a Park Ranger at Rocky Mountain National Park. Living in Nederland, I drove almost 45 miles each way, totaling more than an hour of driving. Some days that drive seemed really long. But come September, I relished every curve, every mile of that road. Because every day brought a new vista of fall technicolor on full display. So many times I would find myself stopping by the side of the road, taking it all in. Photos didn’t do it justice.

Fall in the Rockies is magical. Whether it’s the color change or the antics of the elk rut, it leaves me spell bound. One day, a large bull elk bugled right outside the building I worked in. I walked outside, and not 20 feet away, he stood. Feeling as if I invaded his personal space, his rite of passage to speak to the cow elk, I stood quietly. It’s one of those moments you feel lucky to witness.

If you’re lucky enough to live here, or even just be visiting during this very special time of year, enjoy. Take some time to drive the Peak to Peak Highway, to hang out in a meadow and watch the elk, or to even go for a walk at Brainard Lake.

After running the BolderBoulder this past Memorial Day, I patiently waited in line to receive my swag bag, and refreshments. Many of my friends quickly gravitate to the free beer, but instead I picked up a chocolate milk.

Chocolate milk may seem like a strange post-race drink, but I had recently read an article stating chocolate milk rates as a more effective recovery drink than Gatorade or other energy drinks. I struggle with dehydration after vigorous exercise, so much so that I sometimes get the chills and can’t sleep at night. It’s always a challenge to find the right way to pick myself up after a hard run, long hike or a day of skiing.

As a woman, I’m constantly being told to up my calcium, and drink more milk. But true confession, I hate the taste of milk, and find it a challenge to drink, more so now that I’ve given up cookies and brownies. Before drinking that chocolate milk at the BolderBoulder, I hadn’t had chocolate milk since I was a kid. The last memory I have is stirring powdered NesQuick into a glass of milk, and drinking it down.

Now, I don’t just use chocolate milk to recover, but to start my day off right before a big hike. I’ve found that a banana, some oatmeal and a glass of chocolate milk give me way more energy to get up those Fourteeners that can be oh so challenging.

For those of you who are still skeptical, one more thing. Today’s chocolate milk is nothing like that nasty Ovaltine or Nesquick of our childhood. During my newfound love of chocolate milk as an energy drink, I’ve sampled many brands. Some of them taste like drinking a chocolate milkshake straight down — yummy!

For those of who love Colorado because of the chance to engage in recreation year-round, it’s important to find the right nutrition to keep us going and recover from our pursuits. I feel like I’ve found the key for me as the ideal sports drink, but in an unconventional jar and label.

While doing dishes at the kitchen sink in our Nederland home, I love gazing out the back window looking at the tops of Mt. Meeker and Longs Peak. It always gives me a sense of awe and reminds me of why I love living in the mountains so much.

But this evening, there were no mountains to look at. Not because of clouds or an impending storm, but rather the thick smoke that covered the area today. It seems that the smoke we saw during our recent trip to Montana, Idaho and Washington has been blown into Colorado, creating air quality warnings throughout the front range.

On a day when many frolic celebrating the last of summer by hiking, or mountain biking, it was just plain gross. The temperatures were hot as in mid-summer hot, with Denver and Boulder reaching the mid-90s. Normally, people flee the plains for the mountains in search of relief. Clearly, many did as Rocky Mountain National Park and Brainard Lake Recreation Area were teeming with visitors. But today, they had to contend with breathing in nasty smoke while doing so. Yuck!

As night descended, the almost full moon appeared as an orange moon, the smoke muting its normal yellow. Tonight, a cold front is coming in, and is supposed to push out a lot of the smoke. But the respite will be brief, with warmer temperatures coming back by next weekend and probably more smoke, as there is no let up in the many large fires burning to our north and west.

I’m done and over summer, and after two weeks of driving and hiking in smoke, I’m done with that too. I’m sure residents of Montana badly wish an epic snowstorm or rainstorm would come in and put an end to their misery. As a former Park Ranger with the National Park Service, it is heartbreaking to see the pictures from Glacier National Park, where the Sprague Fire blew up this past week, claiming the historic Sperry Chalet. The Chalet was built in 1914, and it such an iconic part of the park’s history, it’s painful to see it lost to fire.

It’s days like today that make me so ready for cold weather, snow capped peaks and some clear blue skies, something in short supply right now.

While it doesn’t look like the cool weather is coming anytime soon, there may be some relief in sight as over the next couple of weeks, some wet weather works its way down through the Pacific Northwest. Hopefully some rain can ease the terrible fire situation and move us towards more typical fall weather.